There's A Zombie On Your Lawn
by Frosty Glass
Summary: The following contains more teenage angst than you can shake a doom-shroom at. Oh, and zombies – some of those too.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_But for one, Jolene Danville did not enjoy movies about the world being overrun by monsters. The only reason she found 28 Days Later – the sole exception to her rule – even remotely bearable was because Cillian Murphy with his blue blue eyes of pure prettiness played the lead. Pretty in a manly way, she held firm. No one could accuse him of riding coattails; he kicked some serious zombie ass. And some asshole ass too, there at the end._

_ Yes, 28 Days Later – the only post apocalyptic movie she ever liked._

_ Until all hell broke loose and the undead started trying to eat her brain. Then she got into the swing of things and actually managed to see the appeal of beating the shit out of supposedly fictional beings._


	2. Chapter One

_Chapter One_

_In Which A Pretty Virgin Looks At Egg Salad_

As a lot of things do, it began on a Sunday.

The neighborhood was quiet; everyone was either sleeping, in church, or both. It was a relatively normal day, by Jolene's standards. Bent at the waist in front of the fridge to better examine it's dubious contents, surrounded by her mother's extensive collection of pictures and figurines depicting cheekily grinning cows, she did not bat an eye when Marilyn Manson entered the kitchen in full drag.

It was not the real Marilyn, of course – that would have been weird. No. It was Priscilla Danville, her little sister, who just happened to be one of the few people destined from birth to be a goth. Ever since she was little, there was a certain something something in her face that screamed, _I'm a tortured soul and I was _so_ meant to rock eyeshadow._

Something was off, Jolene thought. Priscilla seemed even more depressed than usual. Her tall purple mohawk was slightly askew and lacked its customary razor-sharp spikes. That was an anomaly in itself. Furthermore, her kohl rimmed eyes were red and swollen, her lace-covered shoulders drooped in a most dejected fashion, and her hands in their fingerless gloves were hanging limply by her sides.

It was bad.

"What's wrong?" Jolene asked, dropping the week old egg salad she'd been considering having for lunch to the floor.

"Marvin," the fourteen year old announced in a tone appropriate for use at a loved one's deathbed, "has died."

It was _very_ bad.

**.**

**.**

**.**

When the phone rang, Tyson Vederman jumped in his seat and let out a long stream of expletives. Angrily he rummaged among the detritus covering the desk in search of his cell, all the while keeping one eye on his laptop's monitor. He'd paused it in the middle of an episode of his favorite anime; Bleach. Sosuke Aizen, antagonist extraordinaire and the most prolific troll since the dawn of time, had just revealed his newest, most awesome form yet, and Tyson was almost beside himself with excitement.

"What?" he barked into the newly uncovered phone.

"It's Jolene Danville."

"Who?"

"We have English together. Priscilla's sister?"

"Oh, right."

"It's Marvin again. Can you come?"

_Shit._

"Now?"

"Yeah. It's urgent."

Tyson gazed longingly at the 'Play' button. He was one click away from witnessing the pwning of the century, he was sure …

"Hello? Tyson?"

"I'll be right there."

Damn it, he needed the cash. Aizen would just have to wait until he got back.


	3. Chapter Two

_Chapter Two_

_In Which A Great Deal Of People Are Stalked_

William Gouda was on a mission. It was a noble mission, he thought. As a highschool senior and captain of the football team, he was a role model for many other aspiring jocks, and if he, ladies' man extraordinaire, was unable to complete this noble quest, what hope was there for them?

As he strutted down the quiet residential street, his blond hair shining golden in the sun, he had in his jean's pocket a little black book. It contained the names of each and every girl in his school. All of them had a neat black line running through them, marking them off as done.

All, that is, except for one.

With a wide grin and a satisfied smile, he finally reached his destination. Confidence adding an extra spring to his step, he made his way up the driveway.

The name in the book?

Jolene Danville; the one girl he was yet to screw.

_._

_._

_._

Less than a hundred feet away, the Brit twins were crouched behind a car, their identical steely gray eyes fixed on William's broad back. A dangerous mixture of anger and love stewed in their hearts as they watched him approach the Danville house.

They knew of his mission. They knew of his intentions with the pretty virgin. And they knew they had to stop the long-awaited carnal event from transpiring. How else would they be able to win his affection and keep him for themselves?

For their names, Holly and Molly Brit, were also in his little black book. He had crossed them out a mere week ago, catching two fishes with one worm, one might say.

The next morning, he didn't call.

He avoided them at school.

He ignored them when they tried to catch his attention.

He _never_ called.

But they did not forget.

"Ready, Holly?"

"Ready, Molly."

Then they too made their way towards the Danville residence.

_._

_._

_._

From the deep shadows of an oak tree, another watcher watched the watchers. The watcher enjoyed watching. Watching required patience, and in the watcher's line of work, watching and patience was half the work.

So he watched.

And he watched some more.


End file.
